


The Business of Living

by ashippersheart



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Domestic Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 14:52:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2697017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashippersheart/pseuds/ashippersheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Circus AU. Daryl shoots bolts and throws knives. Carol trapezes through the air.</p><p>Written for USS Caryl's 'Heaven, hell, and Everything in between' Quotation Inspired fanfiction/fanart Challenge</p><p>Prompt: "It is by suffering that human beings become angels." - Victor Hugo</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Business of Living

 

_“It is by suffering that human beings become angels.” — Victor Hugo_

 

**Atlanta, Georgia ~ March 1928**

 

If he didn't know Merle any better, Daryl would’ve thought that he was playing some kind of joke. But as it was, he knew Merle like he knew his own prick and Merle was - incidentally - a giant prick.

"She's just a little girl," Daryl growled. How old was Sophia now? Seven, eight? Regardless, still too young in his book.

Merle snorted. “She’s old enough to earn her keep. Can’t just be lollygagging about all day. This ain’t no charity.”

“She ain’t lollygagging. Lots of little jobs around here she been pickin’ up.” Daryl’s eyes darted across the grounds towards the cookhouse where she was helping to serve breakfast. It had been an unseasonably warm morning for March, and some of the crew had moved a few picnic tables from the cookhouse out into the sun. Daryl watched as Sophia spooned some grits into old man Hershel’s bowl. Carl was right next to her ready to follow up with a spoonful of eggs.

“Them little jobs don’t earn her keep. She needs to get into the ring.”

Daryl turned back to Merle. “And I’m the lucky bastard that gets to do it. Throw knives and shoot bolts at her right in front of her daddy. Ain’t that a peach.”

“Ain’t her daddy you’re worried about. It’s that little mouse she calls mama that’s got your panties all up in a bunch,” Merle grimaced.

Daryl’s jaw tightened before he could stop himself. Fuck. He never could keep shit from Merle.

Thankfully, Merle decided to ignore the fact that he had hit the nail on the head. “Your target girl ain’t coming back this season. You need somethin’ to aim at or you ain’t got no act.”

Daryl’s jaw tightened again. If his brother had kept his dick in his pants, he wouldn’t be one target girl short. But he stopped himself from biting out that retort. Not unless he wanted a good punch to the kisser. “One of the bally broads can stand in.”

“Listen here, little brother. Blake and Peletier already shook hands on this. Ain’t nothing you can do about it.”

Daryl stayed quiet, his body rigid with tension. He couldn’t put together what he was feeling. But even if he could, he would never voice it to Merle. He may not have finished high school, but he was smart enough to know when to shut up.

But just as always, Merle knew exactly what was going on in Daryl’s head. He stepped forward right into Daryl’s face and hissed out his next words. “Don’t miss, and there won’t be no issues. Shit. Grow some damn nuts in that sack of yours.”

The look on Merle’s face told Daryl the conversation was over. He had better get in line or he’d regret it. Daryl nodded and muttered. “All right.”

Satisfied, Merle stepped back from Daryl’s space and headed towards the cookhouse. “Come on, little brother. Let’s go get us some grub. First meal of the season.” He motioned for Daryl to follow. “Wouldn’t wanna miss Blake’s ‘Welcome Back to the Midway’ speech,” Merle snorted.

 

* * *

 

Daryl was halfway finished with his grits and eggs when Philip Blake walked over to the picnic tables outside the cookhouse. Dressed in a neat brown suit, he looked every inch like the legitimate businessman and circus owner that he purported to be. He was a congenial and charming man to the casual observer, but Daryl had heard enough stories from Merle to know that Blake was volatile and manipulative. “Downright evil”, Merle had said. And that was something coming from Merle.

Of course, it didn’t help that Blake wore an eye patch over his right eye. It gave Daryl the heebie jeebies. He just didn’t trust anyone he couldn’t look square into both eyes. No one quite knew how Blake had lost his eye, but Daryl was sure it was one of those situations where the rumors were a lot more interesting than the real story.

Daryl let his mind wander as Blake launched into his season opening speech. It was the same thing every year. _Welcome back… a pleasure to have the family back together_ (Daryl always had to stop himself from snorting out loud whenever Blake referred to them as a family; as far as he was concerned, these were just folks he ate, worked, and shat with)… _the grand tradition of the P.B.B. Great American Circus… familiar faces and new faces coming together…_ After over a decade of listening to this speech, Daryl could practically recite it. He looked over the crowd of people gathered and took a mental roll call.

Hershel was sitting across the table, massaging his stump of a right leg. Daryl had spent many a night on the midway drinking bootleg hooch with the old man and had heard his war stories of how he lost his leg fighting in Cuba. At the end of last season, Hershel had said the pain was getting worse and wasn’t sure if he would be able to return for another year. Daryl quirked his lips into a half smile when Hershel caught his eye, trying to convey to the old man that he was glad he had come back. The animals that made up P.B.B. Great American Circus’s Wild Menagerie would live through another healthy season with Hershel back on board.

Next to Hershel, his daughters, Maggie and Beth, were whispering furiously to each other. The older sister glanced at Glenn Rhee, the acrobat that had joined them three or four seasons ago, a few tables over and winked. Daryl shook his head slightly when Beth looked at him. She snickered as she brought her hands together to make a heart in the air and quirked her eyebrows over at Maggie and Glenn. Daryl wasn’t sure Glenn would survive this season. The Famous Galloping Greene Sisters were a couple of good looking dolls and had left a trail of broken hearts through the years that followed the path of their circus route.

Daryl’s eyes reached the two tables farthest from him where the aerialists and trapeze artists and acrobats were sitting. All told, they were a big bunch, especially when you included all the spouses and kids.

Surveying the group of flying and tumbling performers, Daryl played a game of “Which one does not belong?” Shane was the odd man out in that bunch. He was sitting with the Grimes family instead of over by the middle table where the joeys were. Come to think of it, Shane usually stuck with Rick and Lori and rarely interacted with the other joeys outside of clown alley. Daryl had heard there was some history between the threesome that went all the way back to before the Great War. More than once, he had heard Shane’s name thrown back and forth in anger between Rick and Lori in the backyard while they were waiting for their cue into the ring. Daryl was sure this could result in nothing but bad news, considering how much focus they needed when they were up on that tightrope.

Merle was standing behind the group of trapeze artists, scowling at Andrea in particular. Daryl had a pretty good idea what had transpired between the two. There was no doubt in his mind that Merle had said something obnoxious, probably about Andrea’s tits, and she had told him off, probably with a choice curse word or two and her middle finger. She was the only woman at P.B.B. who wasn’t scared of Merle and who didn’t give a shit that he was the main gaffer and Blake’s right hand man, and she took every opportunity to remind him so. Daryl snickered to himself. It was always fun to see Merle taken down a peg or two.

Finally, Daryl’s eyes landed on the source of his earlier agitation. Sophia was sitting on the grass, her back leaning against her mother’s legs. She tilted her head up to look at Carol and motioned to her hair. A big smile broke out on Carol’s face and she nodded as she gathered up Sophia’s hair and started braiding it. Daryl watched transfixed as Carol’s slender fingers worked through Sophia’s hair. Even from where he was sitting, he could see the thick calluses on her hands from a lifetime of gripping the trapeze bar. In no time, Carol was finished and pulled a hair tie from her wrist to secure around the end of the braid.

Daryl realized with a start that he was staring. And of course, with his shitty bad luck, that was exactly one second after Carol noticed his eyes were trained on her. He could feel the tips of his ears burning and he was sure they were red. Carol pursed her lips together and smiled, almost as if trying to stop herself from bursting out with a laugh. Daryl shrugged his shoulders slightly, and it filled him with something he couldn’t quite name when Carol broke out in a huge grin in response.

Their little moment was interrupted when Ed Peletier sat his ass down on the bench next to Carol. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. He whispered something into her ears and she shook her head, her eyes going wide. Sophia visibly stiffened with her father looming behind her and Daryl could see that Carol was sitting straighter. She was feigning nonchalance, but the tension in her back betrayed her.

Daryl forced himself to look away as he so often had to do when it came to Carol. She was someone’s wife and he had no business making eyes at her. Even if that someone was a sorry son of a bitch. Daryl had his suspicions about what went on behind closed doors in the Peletier railroad car. Hell, everyone in the circus did. But there were never any obvious injuries or marks he could see, and Carol always insisted she was fine.

He quickly glanced back at Carol, just to make sure she was okay. It surprised him to see her staring at him with horror written all over her face and he suddenly realized she wasn’t the only one. His eyebrows shot together in confusion. What the fuck was everyone’s problem?

Sophia looked at him with an odd look on her face and the puzzle pieces began to slide into place. He turned his attention back to Blake and caught his name. Blake was up to the part of his welcome back speech where he introduced the new folks and detailed any changes that might have happened to the regular acts over the winter.

“... I have no doubt Daryl and Sophia will have a wonderful partnership. Daryl’s act has always been a huge draw, and the addition of Sophia will bring in even more folks. Now onto the new animals we’ve added to the menagerie. Hershel, I hope you have experience with zebras...”

The group had gone silent and Daryl could feel the attention on him as people shifted their eyes back and forth between him and Sophia. Danger had always been a part of their lives. When your everyday job included swinging around in the air holding onto a thin bar, or holding your hand inside the open jaw of a lion, or staring down a crossbow that was about to shoot a bolt in your direction, you couldn’t exactly guarantee you’d live to see the next day in one piece.

But because it was their everyday job, it had become routine. And it’s also the only way they can cope. That whiff of danger, that split second that could mean a day’s work well done versus a life ruined - it stayed on the periphery because that’s where it needed to stay.

But now everything was crashing back. And what was on the periphery was suddenly staring back at them through the eyes of an eight year old girl.

Sophia, to her credit, looked eerily calm. Shocked, probably. But not a trace of fear on her face.

Her mother, though, was a different story. From the look on Carol’s face, Daryl was sure she knew nothing about it. She was still staring at him, one hand clutched at her chest and the other holding onto Sophia’s hands. He didn’t even have to look that hard. He could practically feel her tears pooling in her eyes.

That fucking Ed. What he wouldn’t give to have him on the other end of his crossbow instead.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have immersed myself in the circus world for this fic. Result? An overabundance of circus lingo. As well as some 1920s lingo.
> 
> lollygagging - goofing off and avoiding work  
> cookhouse - the area where all circus performers and crew ate; usually housed inside a big tent with picnic tables lined up inside  
> ring - the circular area in the big tent where the circus performers did their acts  
> target girl - female assistant in impalement acts ie. archery or knife throwing  
> kisser - mouth  
> bally broad - female circus performers; originally referred to only the dancers and singers but later broadened to include most any female throughout the entire circus performance  
> midway - the area between the front gate of the circus lot and big tent where the circus performers did their acts; this is where the concession stands, carnival games, and sideshows would be  
> heebie jeebies - anxiety or nervousness  
> doll - woman, especially an attractive one  
> joeys - clowns  
> clown alley - the backstage area in a circus where clowns put on their makeup, store their props, and wait for their cues to enter the stage  
> backyard - the area behind the big tent where the behind the scenes of a circus took place  
> gaffer - circus manager
> 
>  
> 
> For a guy who thinks the other circus folks are just people he "ate, worked, and shat with", Daryl sure knows a lot about their lives. Me thinks he doth protest too much!
> 
> The war that Hershel fought in is the Spanish-American War that took place in 1898.
> 
> And yes, you read it right. Shane is a clown. I regret nothing.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Feedback is love.


End file.
